In The Wake of Destruction
by Child of the Muse
Summary: Just a cute little HP/LV one shot. Written for the Quidditch fanfiction competition.


**A/N: Written for the Quidditch Fanfiction Competition. Green light o' doom is a line that was come up with by hecatekisses during a chat. :D As soon as she said it I was like 'can I use that? That just _sooo_ sounds like something Harry would say. :)" lol! **

**Prompts: 13. (poem) A Divine Image by William Blake, 9. (word) chemistry, 6. (word) specialty  
>Words: 958<br>Rating: T  
>Pairing: HPLV**

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><p>Fifteen year old Harry Potter sat in an office full of aurors, all with their wands trained on him, waiting to be told what <em>exactly<em> he was doing here. _This_ was just one of the many reasons why he hated the ministry. They were uncooperative, they didn't know what they were doing, and they seemed _completely_ disorganized.

And all over some poem that had been confiscated.

Reading it now, he thought the poem was rather romantic in it's own way. It definitely reflected the man who he'd sent it to. As did the black roses.

"Cruelty has a Human Heart, And Jealousy a Human Face. Terror the Human Form Divine And Secrecy, the Human Dress. The Human Dress, is forged Iron The Human Form, a fiery Forge. The Human Face, a Furnace seal'd The Human Heart, its hungry Gorge. This was written by William Blake, a muggle author. He writes poetry."

"And you're sending uncursed poetry and unpoisoned flowers to he-who-must-not-be-named?"

He _still_ wasn't sure how they'd found out where he was sending the letters, much less _who_ he was sending them to. Although maybe it had something to do with the necklace around his neck, the one that was glowing green and that had killed _three_ aurors when they'd tried to pull it off.

What he needed to do was stall for time so Voldemort could get here.

"I was sending it to a friend. The owl must have gotten jinxed or confused. Seriously, think about who you're _talking_ to here! I'm the living walking breathing human target for Voldemort's wand! _I'm_ the guy who when he feels like having target practice, I'm the human bullseye and when he feels like possessing someone, it's on _my_ tab! _I'm_ the one constantly getting shot at with the green light of doom, okay?! And by this point, I'm surprised me and death aren't fucking each other with how many times I've nearly been killed. And why did I have to nearly _die_ so many times? Well let's think, shall we?! Maybe it's because _you guys_ couldn't save the Sorcerer's Stone from Voldemort,_ you guys_ couldn't slay the basilisk in the chamber of secrets, _you guys_ couldn't fend off a hundred dementors from sucking out my soul, and _you guys_ couldn't keep me from getting entered into a dangerous tournament that I _never_ wanted to be in _anyway_! You call yourselves aurors?! Where are you when I actually _need_ you?!"

Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap.

A tall figure, robed in fine black silk, strolled onwards through the aurors office like a ghost drifting over misty waters, and yet he did so with all the speed and grace of a deadly cobra, a _king_ cobra. _His_ king.

Even from this range, across the long auror's office, he could feel their chemistry beginning to react. His heart was beating faster and his palms went sweaty. By the time the aurors turned around to the source of the clapping, it was already too late. Voldemort had sealed the aurors office and the aurors surrounding him that weren't quick enough were petrified, a much favorited specialty of Voldemort's. It was just enough of a distraction for him to run towards the arms of the most beautiful man he had ever seen.

Even from far away, he towered over everyone present, at six foot five. His silky black robes swirled about him like black smoke and a snarl lit up the beautiful face he had come to know and love…the same face he had slept beside just last night.

He loved looking into those livid scarlet almond shaped deepset-eyes with their black cat-like slit and seeing the softness reserved for him and him alone. He loved kissing those velvety soft lips, which both sensitized his own as they brushed against each other and burned his skin as he pulled away. He loved the high cheekbones and the hollows underneath them. He could remember running his hands just underneath in that sunken beautiful crevice.

He loved the cold of his body in the summer heat. He loved the long clean manicured nails that decorated the tips of his beautiful spidery hands. He loved the white cold silky skin of his lovers body that protected his often overheated one from the sun. He loved the tall emaciated form that his lover showed off only for him. He loved the fact that even while he repeatedly cast the killing curse, one of those arms stayed wrapped around him.

He tried not to notice the bodies laying on the floor as Voldemort stepped through the carnage, easily dodging the spells cast at him and even reflecting them back at their original owners. Voldemort was untouchable. He vanished his wand and help up one hand, while he pulled Harry to him using telekinesis.

"Did he just wandlessly accio a person?"

"That's impossible. You can't do that kind of magic!"

He rolled his eyes. Idiots.

Voldemort created a golden protective dome around them and the desk that held his treasures. It was only than that he realized Voldemort was protect the objects he'd meant for him. The older gentleman gave an affection smirk.

"I protect that which is mine." He read over the letter quickly and smiled. "William Blake."

"I thought it was appropriate."

"You would be right."

"I also thought you might find it funny."

Voldemort sniffed and rolled his eyes. "I'm tickled," he replied dryly. "Come."

They left the aurors office without the crack that usually followed apparition.


End file.
